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THEOSOPHY WORLD ------------------------------------- March, 2004

An Internet Magazine Dedicated to the Theosophical Philosophy
And its Practical Application in the Modern World

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to theos-world@theosophy.com.

(Please note that the materials presented in THEOSOPHY WORLD are
the intellectual property of their respective authors and may not
be reposted or otherwise republished without prior permission.)

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CONTENTS

"Real Liberty: Thoreau," by B.P. Wadia
"The Urge That Must Be Satisfied," by Lester A Todd
"Apollonius of Tyanna, Part XVIII, by Phillip A Malpas
"Tea-Table Talks," September 1891, by W.Q. Judge
"The Indwelling Christ," by John McKenzie
"Writing to Share Something More," by Eldon B Tucker
"The Endless Pilgrimage," by Inga Sjostedt
"Our Consciousness of God," by S. Vahiduddin
"Withholding the Shadow of a Doubt," by James Sterling
"Silent Watchers and the Hierarchy of Compassion," Part I,
    by G. de Purucker

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> Only those who do the will of the Masters are reckoned as
> deserving their notice; aspirations, desires, promises go for
> nothing. What is that will? Well, it is simply to free your mind
> from vain and earthly desires, and to work at the work before
> you always lending a helping hand to others. Get rid of anger,
> vanity, pride, resentfulness, ambition and REALLY LOSE THEM, and
> you have then made the first step towards the understanding of
> the occult; with these feelings latent in the heart it is not
> possible to make one single step in magic.
>
> -- W.Q. Judge, PRACTICAL OCCULTISM, page 54

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REAL LIBERTY: THOREAU

By B.P. Wadia

[From THUS HAVE I HEARD, pages 346-50.]

Pure-minded men and women ever remember and revere the Immortals
of the race, like Gautama Buddha or Jesus Christ. Such Teachers
and their Teachings are ever alive in the minds and hearts of
mortals. They are Prophets even today. Their instructions are
prophetic. Seekers find answers to modern problems, personal or
racial, in their instructions.

These Prophets are a class apart. Perfect Sages, they speak
infallible Wisdom. Profound Seers, the Book of Nature is open
before their vision. Below them are Priests of Nature, men and
women who have striven to free themselves from the influence of
the so-called priests and learned religious men.

Today we need more than the Prophets whose light is like the Sun.
We also need the radiance and warmth of the Fires that true
Priests have lit for themselves. Those Fires help us if we
approach with respect, kindling our wood in their Flames.

Wordsworth wanted Milton to be alive in 1802, for "England hath
need of thee." Do we not feel in this year that we need the
author of the Areopagitica and others that loved Liberty, authors
that condemned legislation that coerced life, cramping free
movement of body and speech? These thoughts led us to the great
man who wrote the pioneering essay on "Civil Disobedience." Henry
David Thoreau -- "the bachelor of thought and Nature" as Emerson
called him -- should be with us today in the world that is
groping for the Pattern of Freedom -- not the four or any other
number of Freedoms, but Spiritual Liberty.

Thoreau's calling in life was comprehensive, "the art of living
well." He was almost contemptuous of restrictive
conventionalities and taboos. This month of July is appropriate
for recalling to our hearts some of his ideas. He was born on
July 12, 1817.

To what extent are his views useful and practicable for
application in the world of today? He said:

> To speak practically and as a citizen, unlike those who call
> themselves no-government men, I ask for, not at once no
> government, but at once a better government. Let every man make
> known what kind of government would command his respect, and that
> will be one step toward obtaining it.

Is there a truly Democratic State functioning anywhere today? Is
every man capable of saying what government and which leaders
command his respect? The very education which citizens are
everywhere given accustoms them to slavish living. Thoreau wrote
some strong words against the American Government of his day:

> How does it become a man to behave toward this American
> government today? I answer that he cannot without disgrace be
> associated with it. I cannot for an instant recognize that
> political organization as my government which is the slave's
> government also.

The closing paragraphs of "Civil Disobedience" are scathing:

> Our legislators have not yet learned the comparative value of
> free trade and of freedom, of union, and of rectitude, to a
> nation. . . . For eighteen hundred years, though perchance I
> have no right to say it, the New Testament has been written; yet
> where is the legislator who has wisdom and practical talent
> enough to avail himself of the light that it sheds on the science
> of legislation?

How far away the United States still is from the realization of
Thoreau's vision! How far away India is from the pattern the
Father of the Nation set for her to follow!

The closing words of the essay are dynamic and their truth
creates fervor in the mind of an earnest reader:

> Is a democracy, such as we know it, the last improvement possible
> in government? Is it not possible to take a step further towards
> recognizing and organizing the rights of man? There will never be
> a really free and enlightened State until the State comes to
> recognize the individual as a higher and independent power, from
> which all its own power and authority are derived, and treats him
> accordingly.
>
> I please myself with imagining a State at last that can afford to
> be just to all men, and to treat the individual with respect as a
> neighbor; which even would not think it inconsistent with its own
> repose if a few were to live aloof from it, not meddling with it
> nor embraced by it, who fulfilled all the duties of neighbors and
> fellowmen. A State which bore this kind of fruit, and suffered
> it to drop off as fast as it ripened, would prepare the way for a
> still more perfect and glorious State, which also I have
> imagined, but not yet anywhere seen.

To appreciate truly Thoreau's vision, it is necessary to
understand his philosophy of living. Emerson writes of his
friend:

> He interrogated every custom, and wished to settle all his
> practice on an ideal foundation. He was a protestant a
> l'outrance, and few lives contain so many renunciations. He was
> bred to no profession; he never married; he lived alone; he never
> went to church; he never voted; he refused to pay a tax to the
> State; he ate no flesh, he drank no wine, he never knew the use
> of tobacco; and, though a naturalist, he used neither trap nor
> gun.

And again:

> Yet so much knowledge of Nature's secret and genius few others
> possessed; none in a more large and religious synthesis . . .
> He was equally interested in every natural fact. The depth of
> his perception found likeness of law throughout Nature, and I
> know not any genius who so swiftly inferred universal law from
> the single fact.

He condemned sectarianism, but he was a truly religious
philosopher. He never bothered about the churches; he worshipped
at the Shrine of Nature. "He referred every minute fact to
cosmic laws" and "he was a person of a rare, tender, and absolute
religion," wrote Emerson.

Emerson, himself a poet and a mystic -- another Priest of Nature
-- says that Thoreau's "biography is in his verses."

Thoreau is not a great poet, but there is truth in what Emerson
says. We do catch a glimpse of his soul as he uses his
imagination in "I Am a Parcel of Vain Strivings," "The Old
Marlborough Road," "Great Friend," "Tall Ambrosia," "I Was Made
Erect and Lone," and this:

> I am thankful that my life doth not deceive
> Itself with a low loftiness, half height,
> And think it soars when still it dip its way
> Beneath the clouds on noiseless pinion
> Like the crow or owl, but it doth know
> The full extent of all its trivialness,
> Compared with the splendid heights above.

How truly applicable are the words of THE VOICE OF THE SILENCE:

> Be humble, if thou would'st attain to Wisdom.
> Be humbler still, when Wisdom thou hast mastered.

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THE URGE THAT MUST BE SATISFIED

By Lester A Todd

[From THE THEOSOPHICAL FORUM, June 1939, pages 423-27.]

When a human being reaches that state of evolution where the
material experiences of life no longer satisfy him, his
subconscious Ego naturally creates such a tremendous urge within
him that it necessarily must find an outlet in the thoughts and
actions that dominate his personality. He becomes a Pilgrim,
mentally wandering here and there, seeking that certain something
that will satisfy this urge within him. He may try this or that,
and may almost despair of the hope of finding what he
subconsciously seeks so earnestly.

There may be among those that read these lines just such a
person. We who have also groped about in the darkness of
materialism, prodded by the spiritual urge within us, and who
have finally found our way onto the true path of Life, welcome
this possible opportunity to assisting him, our fellowman, to
find that which he may be seeking.

I will tell you a little about Theosophy as briefly and simply in
everyday language as I can. The operations of human
consciousness are threefold. Men designate them as Religion,
Philosophy, and Science. These three are not fundamentally
different things. We may liken them to the three sides of an
equilateral triangle. They are three views of looking at Truth.
An attempted separation of Religion, Philosophy, and Science is
unnatural. The Theosophist uses their unified vision to proclaim
the hidden facts of being. We may then define Theosophy as a
Scientific Religion, a Religious Science, and a Philosophy of
Nature -- the Oneness of Man with the Universe.

The Teaching says that there is One Infinite Life without
beginning or end. Everything is alive. There is no such thing
as dead matter in Nature. The manifestation of Life in dualities
of Spirit and Matter descends in cycles of Activity and Repose,
whether applied to Cosmic, Solar World Periods, or to such common
alternations as Sleeping and Waking, with which we are all
familiar. Man on Earth is a Life-Atom of the Divine, immersed in
matter, a Pilgrim seeking his way back to the Source.

An orthodox source may have taught you that you have a Soul. You
know you have a body because you can see it. Theosophy teaches
us that each of us is a Soul and that our body is nothing but the
vehicle of our present evolution in this particular incarnation
or life. You may liken your body to a house in which dwells the
real man, the Inner Man, the man with the wee small voice,
sometimes called Conscience.

Theosophy teaches that the real nature of Man is sevenfold,
classified as:

(1) SPIRIT is the highest part of man, giving him and indeed
every other Entity its sentient consciousness of Selfhood.

(2) SPIRITUAL SOUL, the Vehicle of Spirit, gives to Man Spiritual
Consciousness.

(3) HUMAN SOUL, Mind, the essentially human element, is the
center of Ego-consciousness in Man.

(4) OUR PASSIONS AND DESIRES are the driving or impelling force
within us.

(5) VITALITY is our Life principle.

(6) ASTRAL BODY is the Model, Pattern, or framework around which
the physical body is built.

(7) PHYSICAL BODY is the House, Man's carrier, no more an
essential part of him than the clothes garmenting his body.

Now that I have told you briefly of the seven principles of Man,
let us consider the very ancient and worldwide doctrine of
Reincarnation or Reimbodiment in flesh. It says that man lives
as a human being many times on earth. The conditions of each
incarnation are the natural result of the causes set in motion in
former lives.

Think of the hope that our belief in Reincarnation gives us. We
get another chance to make up for all the frustrations of this
life, inequalities, and unfinished business. The failures are
necessary experiences that are part of our evolution.
Reincarnation answers the question that we hear so often, "Why
did this have to happen?" It explains accidents, the deaths of
little children and babies, and why men and women are cut down at
the very threshold of their careers.

Reincarnation is a magnificent prospect. It makes of Man a God
and gives to every part of Nature the possibility of rising on
the Ladder of Life. For what does the Universe exist? For what
final purpose is Man, the immortal thinker, here in evolution? It
is for the experience and evolution of the soul. It is for the
raising matter to the stature, nature, and dignity of conscious
godhood. We can only carry on physical and spiritual evolution
by Reincarnation.

You ask, "Why do we not remember our former lives?" The physical
brain produces memory, which perishes with the body. The soul
remembers its experience. In the too seldom flashes of intuition
or hunches, we have the answer and the possibilities.

Reincarnation is the natural method by which the soul evolves.
It logically implies that we experience the results of our
thoughts and actions in past lives. These experiences, the
adjustment of causes to effects, are the manifestation of the Law
of Karma. Karmic Law is unerring. It is the natural Law of
Justice, which wisely, intelligently, and equitably adjusts each
effect to its cause. It is in no sense fatalism or chance, which
have no place in Theosophy.

With this knowledge of Karmic Law, we have the comforting thought
that our destiny is in our own hands. We not only can control
such destiny, but we must do so. Bear in mind that every action,
every thought that you have, is a force sent out from within you,
that later on -- no matter how much later -- comes back to you as
an effect, and the effect must produce equilibrium or harmony
with its cause. Each one is therefore his own karma, and
whatever happens to us is the natural harvest of former
plantings. Our Leader beautifully expresses this principle in
GOLDEN PRECEPTS OF ESOTERICISM:

> Sow an act, and you will reap a habit. Sow a habit, and you will
> reap a destiny, because habits build character. This is the
> sequence: an act, a habit, a character, and a destiny. You are
> the creator of yourself. What you make yourself to be now, you
> will be in the future. What you are now, is precisely what you
> have made yourself to be in the past. What you sow, you shall
> reap.

Our evolution goes on and on according to the Law of Cycles, not
like a train on a straight track, but rather along a spiral path,
ever returning toward a past circuit of our experience, but
always bounding the curve in another, broader sweep. There are
cycles within cycles. We are familiar with the alternations of
day and night, life and death, sleeping and waking, the ebb and
flow of the tides, the four Seasons. Nature continually repeats
itself and so do all manifestations of Nature including
ourselves.

This simple exposition of the Theosophic teachings of the Seven
Principles of Man, of Reincarnation, Karma, and Cyclic Law, may
awaken in your consciousness the knowledge that you are not the
helpless mortal that you may have thought you were, cringing in
fear of divine wrath that might be visited on you because of your
human frailties. Not at all. You are a definite part of the
Divinity of all Nature. Below you in varying states of evolution
are the Elementals, the Mineral Kingdom, the Vegetable Kingdom,
and the Animals. Above you are the Mahatmas, those perfect men,
relatively speaking, whom Theosophists call Teachers, Elder
Brothers, Masters, Sages, and Seers. They are the Guardians of
the Race and of the Records of past ages, portions of which they
give out from time to time, when the world is ready to receive
them, as fragments of a now long-forgotten Wisdom.

You are one class of young Gods incarnated in bodies of flesh at
the present stage of your own particular evolutionary journey.
The human stage of evolution is about halfway between the
undeveloped life-atom and the fully developed Kosmic Spirit or
God.

Recognize your Divinity and with such recognition realize your
responsibilities to all Nature. Begin to acquire within that
inherent sense of Universal Brotherhood, not in the sense of
sentimental unity or political or social cooperation, but in the
Spiritual Brotherhood of all Beings. Begin with your thoughts.
Thoughts are powerful energies. Each is an embryo of your future
karma.

If you understand and accept these few simple Theosophical
truths, limitless possibilities of action within yourselves will
open up. By the very impetus of your own efforts, you will go
forward, unafraid, and with dignity to your inescapable destiny.

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APOLLONIUS OF TYANNA, Part XIX

By Phillip A Malpas

[The following comes from a series that appeared in THE
THEOSOPHICAL PATH, under Katherine Tingley as Editor and
published at the Point Loma Theosophical Community. It later
appeared in book form under the title TRUE MESSIAH: THE STORY AND
WISDOM OF APOLLONIUS OF TYANA 3 B.C. -- 96 A.D., published by
Point Loma Publications.]

PRISON

The Emperor finished the morning's business and went to the hall
of Adonis after he had completed the sacrifice. He had not taken
off the fillet of green leaves from his head and was still
thinking of the sacrifice when Apollonius was brought in, Damis
having been thrust aside at the gates. Suddenly the Emperor
looked up from the flowers made of shells that adorned the hall.
For the moment, he was more amazed than the Tyanean's friends had
ever expected. Aelian prepared himself for anything, especially
the unexpected. How could anyone say what would happen where
Apollonius was concerned?

"You have brought me a spirit," said Domitian to the Prefect, in
amazement.

"Well now, I was just thinking you were like Diomed at Troy under
the protection of Pallas, O Emperor," said Apollonius. This was
a promising beginning, Aelian thought, for did not Domitian
consider himself specially protected by Pallas?

Apollonius continued, "She purged his mortal sight and gave him
the power to distinguish between Gods and men. Now you show me
that the goddess has not removed that mist from your eyes, for
you would not have ranked men among the demons, if it were so."

"How long have you had your eyes purged," asked Domitian.

"A good long while now, ever since I began to study philosophy."

"How is it you have come to consider the Gods as my greatest
enemies," said the Emperor.

"Are you at war with Airchas and Phraotes the Indians, whom of
all men I consider divine and deserving to be called gods," said
the Tyanean.

"Do not change the subject to Indians," said Domitian. "Answer
me as to Nerva, your intimate friend, and his accomplices!"

"Certainly! What is your command? Do you command me to plead his
cause or not?"

"Yes, plead it," said the Emperor. "For he is already convicted
of crime. Are you not in conspiracy with him? That is what I
want to know!"

Aelian heard Apollonius adopt a confidential, gossipy sort of
tone, as if he did not care how much he said, if he could only
gain the favor of the Emperor by telling everything.

"Listen," he said, "and I will tell you how far I am concerned in
the matter. Why should I conceal the truth?"

Things were going splendidly for the Emperor, but how could
Aelian retain a glimmer of hope for Apollonius? Here was the old
man going to give the whole case away. Oh, why had he not let
some lawyer prime him with what to say! The Emperor leaned
forward with his ears ready to catch every little secret, and
some big ones, too, for were they not going to send Nerva,
Orfitus, and Rufus to their deaths?

Apollonius began. Could Aelian believe his ears?

"I know Nerva is one of the most moderate and mild of men. I
know that he is much attached to you. He is an excellent
magistrate, so little disposed to meddle in affairs of state that
he even shrinks from the honors attending them. Besides this,
his friends, Rufus and Orfitus, are in my opinion moderate men
and despisers of worldly wealth. They are, in short, as far as I
know them, men too backward to interfere where they ought, and
where it is lawful. These are not the kind of men seeking to
cause revolutions or helping those who do."

Think of Aelian's feelings! He dare not show the slightest sign
that he knew Apollonius and was secretly his friend. Now he dare
not laugh. The Emperor was furious. He let go the vials of his
wrath, saying anything and everything that came to mind and
abusing Apollonius unmercifully, for recommending these
disturbers of empire as good men.

"I know you all, you wicked ones! If I asked them about you, they
would say you were neither an enchanter, nor hot-headed, nor a
boaster, nor covetous, nor a despiser of the laws, because you
are all in league together."

He had let out the whole arsenal of the accusation, and every
arrow was blunt and every feather frayed. What a dossier! Still,
what philosopher was ever accused otherwise? There was one shaft
left in the quiver.

"I know as well as if I had been on the spot with you," thundered
the Emperor, "the oath you took, the place where you met, and the
cause of your conspiracy. I know the sacrifice you made."

That was a clincher. Apollonius was calm.

"It is not honest in you, O King, nor agreeable to law to enter
into a judicial discussion of what you are already persuaded, nor
to be persuaded of what has not been discussed. If such is your
pleasure, permit me to begin my defense with saying that you are
prejudiced against me, and are more unjust than the common
informer. He at least promises to prove what you take for
granted without proof."

Had anyone, could anyone, ever have spoken to Domitian like that
before? There was no eluding the argument.

"Get your defense ready then," said the Emperor, "begin it in any
way you like. As for me, I know where to begin and where to
leave off."

Then his fury broke out afresh. He treated Apollonius like the
worst of felons. His hair was to be cut off. The barber knew
how to blunt his scissors and razors. If they would not cut, why
what was to prevent those old locks being pulled out? He was
loaded with fetters and cast among the worst criminals in the
prison.

"I do not think you need fear my hair," said Apollonius. "It is
not very dangerous. What is the good of binding me in chains if
you think I am a magician, an enchanter?"

"I have bound you and will not let go until you change yourself
to water, or a wild beast, or a tree."

"Supposing I could do even that, I would not, lest I should
betray those men who run the risk of being put to death! What I
am, that I will remain, subject to all you can inflict, till I
have pleaded their cause."

"Who will defend your?" asked the Emperor.

"Time, the spirit of the gods, and the love of philosophy to
which I have been devoted," said Apollonius.

There were secret enemies of Apollonius, and this kind of thing
did not please them at all. They did what such secret enemies
have ever done. They spread abroad the report that he had made
his defense and was condemned and that is why he was shaved and
put in irons.

This is obviously untrue, as Damis says, for if he was then
condemned, why was a letter, a long prolix yarn spun in the
Ionian dialect, which Apollonius never used except to make his
will. In this, he is made out a suppliant, as though he had
confessed himself guilty. Was there ever a philosopher who went
through the eternal program without these things? Will there ever
be one, or will the method of playing the game ever change? The
hid hand behind was well known to Apollonius, as he showed when
the next move on the board was made.

Two days later another visitor entered the prison and promised to
help Apollonius. He was a Syracusan, a Sicilian, and he tried
other tactics than the agent who had failed before. Apollonius
knew he was an agent from the first and governed his conversation
accordingly, giving the strangest and most unexpected
philosophical replies to all the questions volleyed at him from
the very beginning. That tack was no good.

"This time it is not a matter of Nerva and the others; as far as
I understand, the Emperor pays no attention to those calumnies
any more. The matter is much more serious, and the man who gave
him the information about the present accusations of your
treasonable language in Ionia is a man of no small reputation,"
went on this mind and tongue of Domitian, with subtle suggestion.
"These things are so serious that the Emperor has forgotten the
other things in his displeasure."

"I suppose the accuser you mean is someone who has won a crown at
the Olympian Games and now wants to win another for his skill in
calumny," said Apollonius. "I know who he is. Euphrates has
libeled me. I am indebted to him for several kindnesses of the
sort. He even went so far as to calumniate me to the
gymnosophists of Egypt, and if I had not known about it
beforehand I might have returned without ever seeing them!"

The Sicilian agent provocateur and spy was taken aback by this
reasoning.

"What! Do you mean to say you think that was more serious than
being accused by the Emperor -- just the possibility of being
underrated by the gymnosophists?"

"Certainly I do, for I went to them to obtain knowledge, but now
I am come to impart it."

This amazing man!

"What have you come to communicate," asked the informer.

"I have come to tell the Emperor I am honest and of good repute.
He doesn't seem to know it yet!"

"I think it would be better to tell him now what you refused to
tell him before if you are alive to your own interests," said the
spy. "If you had only spoken when you had the chance, you would
not now be in chains."

The cat was out of the bag. They were once more trying to get
him to betray Nerva. The wily philosopher met this
underhandedness in the way philosophers do, always with success.
He was just straightforward.

"Well now, you see me in chains because I told the Emperor the
truth," he said. "What do you think would be the result if I
told him the contrary?"

The spy had had enough of it. He left Apollonius alone, saying
as he went out, "This man is more than a philosopher!" He was
right, as Damis found in a day or two.

They had many conversations, Damis sad and hopeless, Apollonius
assuring him repeatedly that they would not be put to death. As
well, argue with the hangman that nothing was really going to
happen.

Damis asked, "If you are going to be set at liberty, tell me
when?"

Apollonius said, "Tomorrow, if it depended on the judge. If it
depended on me, this very minute!" So saying, he drew his leg out
of its heavy fetters and said, "You see how free I am! So cheer
up!"

THIS WAS NO VULGAR MAGIC

For the first time in all these long, long years of daily
intercourse, a great light began to dawn on Damis. For this old
man, of well nigh a century of mortal years to his present count,
was acting in a manner above the human, in a way divine. Without
any sacrifice or prayers, or saying a word, he could do what
others do not do with all the help of the gods, making a mockery
of his fetters. Then he put his leg back and continued to behave
"like a man in chains!"

Philostratus, perhaps, belonged to the same school of philosophy,
for he wrote just a little more than a century later in
collaboration with others at the wish of the Empress Julia Domna,
who was also a student. Therefore, to avoid foolishness, he
digresses to assure the reader that this was no vulgar magic, and
to warn all young people to have nothing to do with magic or
magicians, and not to make them acquainted with their practices,
even in merriment or sport. He knew the danger.

Then one day Apollonius was removed again to the larger room
where, free of his fetters, he was able to meet the other
prisoners again. They received him with joy, as children who
receive their parents in love, after fearing they would never see
him more. The Emperor in giving this concession gave out that he
would be tried in five days' time. Apollonius never ceased
advising and encouraging the prisoners, and though he knew it
might not be needed, he wrote his defense; chiefly to have it on
record what the accusations were and their refutation, it seems.

The next day, Apollonius called Damis and told him to go to
Puteoli and salute Demetrius. "Better walk instead of going by
boat," he said quietly, "you will find it the best way of
traveling. Then when you have seen Demetrius, go down to the
shore by Calypso's Isle and you will see me."

"What! Alive, or how," exclaimed Damis.

Apollonius laughed. "Alive, in my opinion, but as one raised
from the dead in yours," he said cheerfully.

So Damis went. He had learned what those quiet little asides of
the Tyanean meant, and though a three days' tramp was more
irksome than going by boat, he walked. Between hope and fear, he
went with torn emotions. Would his Master be saved? Would he be
saved? The gods alone know.

Having arrived at Puteoli, he found there had been a fearful
storm and many ships were wrecked. Then he knew why he had been
bidden to walk.

------------------------------------------------------------------
TEA-TABLE TALKS, SEPTEMBER 1891

By W.Q. Judge

[From LETTERS THAT HAVE HELPED ME, pages 154-58]

The Professor sat, cigar in hand, watching the upward curl of its
blue smoke-filament, his eyes darkened by the intensity of his
thought. I knew he had just seen X, an "advanced" theosophist of
the occult wing, and I lay in wait for any information that might
percolate through upon my humble self. Presently the Professor
remarked, dreamily, and as if speaking from cloudland:

"We had many a crisis, but assuredly this was the greatest."

"To what do you refer, Professor?"

"To the departure of HPB from her physical body. It might have
been supposed, in advance, that this sudden taking-off would
result to our disadvantage. But the fact is, disasters work upon
the T. S. in inverse proportion. The greater the (apparent)
disaster, the greater the resultant good. The stronger the blow,
too, the stronger our reaction. All attacks, all so-called
exposures and losses have merely cleared away the impediments of
weak and uncertain followers. The apparent loss of our leader
did not, for one instant even, paralyze the activities of the
working staff in India, England, or America. Now, day by day, we
have evidence of growth in every direction. The Press is opening
its jealously-guarded doors. The Practical Work of the
Theosophic League has won public sympathy for us. Everywhere
there is a sudden outburst of energy and new life. X spoke of it
today."

"What had he to say of it?"

"We were talking about HPB, and he said that, so far as he
understood, she (the Adept) expended an immense amount of energy
 vis viva, you know -- in holding together a body whose every
molecule tended to disruption. In effect, just think of the
cohesive force thus employed, of the immense friction in
brain-centers already worn by disease! X says they were so
impaired that senility must soon have resulted, so that it seemed
to her (?) better to let that body go to pieces as soon as a good
opportunity should occur."

"That last phrase is very suggestive."

"It is. We believe that HPB will be for some time occupied in
training a new instrument, and one not so young as to be useless
at the present cyclic crisis. He does not pretend to speak with
authority, but certain sayings of hers -- and perhaps what I
might call post-mortem facts -- bear him out. Certainly, she
left everything in order. All things were planned out, and
evidence was abundantly had to the effect that she knew her
departure was near. Moreover, X said that looking upon her as an
Adept, whose chief work was done outside of the objective body,
it was reasonable to suppose that she is now enabled to use, upon
higher (or inner) planes of being, the power previously expended
in the maintenance of that body."

"Did he think that the present theosophic increase should be
attributed to that fact?"

"Only in part. You see, he believes her attentions to be largely
engaged with the new instrument. But, from his point of view,
her coadjutors and associates would naturally lend a helping hand
in her absence, especially if the Theosophical Society, as a
body, called down their help."

"What do you mean by calling down help?"

"I mean that the united impulse of a large body of truth seekers
-- more especially if they work for Humanity -- attracts the help
needed for its spiritual efforts. Imagine it as a great stream
of energy going out into space and returning freighted with all
that it had attracted to itself -- all similars -- on its
passage. That in itself would be a source of power. Again, the
increase is largely due to what HPB foresaw. Theosophists are
now able to stand alone, are all the gainers by being left to do
so. (Take the words 'alone' and 'left' in a relative sense,
please.) In the same way an infant is benefited when left to
learn to walk, even at the cost of its tumbles; it is the course
of normal, healthy growth in every department of Nature."

"All that sounds rational enough."

"My dear Sir! Nothing is more rational, more sane than Theosophy.
It is like the fairy wand that was used upon the ten billion
feathers of ten thousand different kinds; all the facts of life
fly out into well ordered heaps."

"Just fancy how the public would receive that statement!"

"The public is well described by Carlyle's estimate of
population: so many 'millions -- mostly fools.' Yet tell me what
truth, what invention, has not been rejected by their scorn. Let
us not be trite. All the truths of Theosophy, all the axioms of
occultism are, if I may so put it, the apotheosis of common
sense. When you see a lack of that -- beware! You may be sure
that their knowledge is defective, erratic, ill digested; every
psychic, every seer, every hearer to the contrary. What are
their gifts if not supplemented by an understanding of the thing
heard or seen? 'My son, get knowledge; but, above all, get
understanding.' That power to interpret must be supplied. How?"

"I cannot possibly say. Did you not ask X?"

"I did. His answer was, 'By study of the Ethics. The
Bhagavad-Gita shows the way.' In this science, he declared,
spirit and nature, or the pure and the true, or ethics and law,
are the same thing. The inner man may be looked upon as a
congeries of powers. Every power is 'the opener of the Door' to
the plane from which it springs in Nature. A power of the lower
astral, or psycho-physiological, plane opens the door to that
plane alone. It does so partly through action and interaction in
the cells and molecules of the body. It acts upon its
corresponding principle in every cell."

"Can't you enlarge upon that, Professor?"

"Suppose I were able to induce in the optic nerve that vibratory
ratio which enables it to perceive the yellow color. How do I do
it? I act as Nature does. She presents a given numerical
vibration to the nerves, and forthwith they telegraph to the
brain the sense impression of yellow. Which do you call the real
thing in itself, the sense impression or the vibratory ratio? I
induce (if I can!) that same ratio in the nervous fluid and the
brain again registers yellow. Soon, if I were to continue this
action, that nerve aura of the inner man would be in synchronous
action and interaction with a whole plane of being -- call it the
lower plane of the yellow ray, and all the things of that plane
that are related to that vibration are perceived. Those parts of
specific things that are not in relation to the vibration are not
seen, and thus partial knowledge arises. It is literally true
that you see that which you are."

"I begin to understand."

"Again, note that every plane has its active and its passive
aspects; its principles; its sub-divisions and theirs. It is
only the higher plane forces that open the upper doors. What
determines this difference in power?"

"Ah! That must be the crux."

"Thought determines it. Motive determines it, for motive
determines the quality of Thought. Through motive, Thought
becomes contractive or expansive. It is well known that Thought
affects the assimilative processes of the body. It has always
been a recognized factor in therapeutics. The introduction of
the higher, more spiritualized vibrations into the secret brain
centers not only opens them to the influence of higher spheres,
but also it influences the selective action of the whole sphere.
As the body exhales and inhales air, so the inner nervous body
dilates and contracts with the motion of the etheric or astral
Medium. Its vibration is quickened by the action of Thought, and
this more rapid vibration prevents the entrance of the grosser
particles of etheric substance, causing also a draught upon the
infinitely finer currents of that World Soul. In this way the
higher intelligence of every atom is opened, 'wooed from out the
bud like leaves upon the branch.' Keely gives us a hint of one
method in which this is done."

"You mean by his discovery that the production of the chord of
any given mass ruptures the molecular association of that mass
and liberates finer energies, which energies are infinitely more
dynamic?"

"Precisely so. The lesson can be carried still further. You say
he produces the chord of any given mass, a chord that represents
the vibratory total of that mass. So, too, we must use that
force that is harmonious to the plane that we desire to enter.
It is easy to talk about it, but who amongst us can do it? And
when the psychic does it fortuitously, he sees only partial
results, only that which he is fitted to see, and no more. This
is why it is so often said, 'A man must live what he knows.'
Until he has lived it, he cannot know it; he must be that higher
vibration; he himself must become that 'lost Word.' By long
training in the production of forces within himself -- forces
that must be absolutely pure if they are to reveal the pure --
the student may approximate an understanding of what he sees.
Otherwise, psychic experiences are a great disadvantage. They
preempt thought; they detain the mind, as thorns upon the bushes
detain the sheep. This is why THE VOICE OF THE SILENCE advises
the student to flee from that 'Hall of Learning' where, under
every flower, the astral serpent coils."

"Then it is well to be able to show these things by the light of
common sense."

"Certainly, if you wish to benefit the sensible. I always go to
Nature for an explanation of occultism."

"In that case, drawing a parallel, we may say that the so-called
death of Madame Blavatsky brought the theosophic minds to a
common focus; that was, the determination to continue her work.
This unity of effort on higher lines induced a great volume of
energy, all pouring into and from a common center."

"Yes -- and results of this action are now seen in a two-fold
manner: first, the increased activity we spoke of; second, the
partial unclosing of the doors into higher planes."

"How do you infer that?"

"From what X went on to tell me. It appears that the Leaders of
the Society have made themselves objectively felt. Say, for
example, in the way of letters. It is affirmed that some such
have been received, and that their burden is 'Work.' In one, a
laborer is told to 'not ask for detailed commands, for HPB has
the PATH hewed out. FOLLOW in WORK and leave us to manage
results.' Again, work is referred to thus: 'You go on with other
work in a field as wide as humanity.' The worker here referred to
had been previously working in purely ethical ways. Another
student is told, 'Be careful, then, so to act that your life
shall not hurt the Society, now having so few. * * * Make no
profession a lie. Remember your responsibility and your oath.'
The burden of all such letters is devotion to and work for the
present organization, as a duly-created center through that work
is to be done."

"It must be very encouraging to receive such letters."

"Precisely my remark to X, who gave me one of his sudden shrewd
looks and then said quickly, 'My dear boy, when a plant is
mildewed, devoured, broken, growing awry, the head gardener or
some one of his authorized assistants comes to its aid, or some
few especial plants, doing especial service in the garden, may
receive especial stimulus, such as would injure others. When a
plant is following all the natural laws of growth, it requires no
readjustment; it does not hear from the gardener, who knows it is
doing well. In the East, the Guru or Teacher is called the
Re-adjuster. He may communicate with some sub-center already
established, which sub-center is to give out the help thus
extended to those working in the same line.'"

"Then those workers who do not hear in some specific manner may
still feel that they are seen and are doing well?"

"That is what X said; also that with closer relations to The
Lodge comes also a greater, a terrible responsibility."

"It often seems to me hard to know just how to work."

"That is so. The best advice I ever found was: first, use your
predominant gifts to the best advantage; second, do not impede
your fellow in so using his, and third, follow the methods of
Nature. Find a current or a nucleus, and work in it. No matter
whether it seems perfect to you or not. Leave results to the
Law. But if no nucleus is found, become yourself a center. The
Divine will enter and work through you."

------------------------------------------------------------------
THE INDWELLING CHRIST

By John McKenzie

[From THE ARYAN PATH, October 1953, pages 440-43]

There are not two Christs, one dwelling within and the other
dwelling without. It cannot be too strongly emphasized that He
who dwells in the hearts of His faithful people is the same
Christ who has His place in history. We have the story in the
Gospels of how He lived in Palestine 1900 years ago. We have the
records of His teaching, of His works of healing, records of the
lowly service that He rendered to those who were in need, above
all the outcasts of society. We learn how His message of
forgiveness came home to men and women sunk in sin and learn how
these same sinful people had their relationships both to God and
to their fellowmen revolutionized. Not least impressive in the
Gospel story are the contrasted ways in which people responded to
Christ's love. He drew to Himself, on the one hand, love, and
loyalty and on the other drew hatred and opposition. Hatred
seemed to have triumphed in the end when He faced the cruel and
shameful death on the Cross.

Here in a few words is the historical Jesus, the only Jesus whom
His friends and enemies knew up to the close of His earthly
ministry. Who was He? Who did men take Him to be? There were
those most deeply indebted to Him, who saw in Him the Christ, the
Son of the living God. There were those who were not predisposed
to welcome Him or His message but He drove to involuntary
expressions of wonder and admiration nevertheless. A Pharisee
said, "We know that Thou art a teacher come from God." There was
Herod, whose guilty conscience led him to imagine that Jesus was
John the Baptist returned from the dead. There was the thief on
the cross, who in his dying hour prayed Him, "Lord, remember me
when thou comest into thy kingdom." When all was over, there was
the centurion that said, "Truly, this man was the Son of God."
Against all these were those to whom religion was a complex of
traditional observances, men who loved the letter and hated the
life-giving Spirit. In Jesus, they saw the personification of
what to them was above all hateful. They would not rest until
they had destroyed Him. "Away," they cried, "with such a fellow
from the earth."

When His enemies had achieved their end, it seemed to His
disciples to be unmitigated disaster. "We trusted," said one of
them, "that it had been he that should have redeemed Israel," but
this had proved an idle dream. His death blighted their hopes,
revived only by His later appearance to them alive. We find the
evidence for His resurrection in the New Testament, most
impressively in the fifteenth chapter of I Corinthians, where it
is summarized in one of the earliest of the New Testament records
to take its present form.

More significant than the detailed stories is what we know to
have been the effect on the disciples of their experience of the
risen Christ. These defeated and despairing men went out, filled
with a new enthusiasm, to declare to the world what they had seen
and heard. "God," said Simon Peter, "hath made that same Jesus,
whom ye have crucified, both Lord and Christ."

All this meant a completely new relationship between themselves
and Christ. Their minds began to turn back over things that He
had said to them, things to which at the time they had given
little attention, or which they had failed altogether to
understand. These were notably the things that He had said about
His coming death and resurrection, as for example, "that he must
go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many things of the elders and chief
priests and scribes, and be killed, and be raised again the third
day." There were His sayings about what lay beyond. Among
others, He spoke about the Holy Spirit, who would dwell in them,
inspiring and teaching them.

Now these anticipations, imperfectly grasped, were being
realized. Their relations with Christ had been relations between
persons, for He and they were distinct personalities. They were
bound to Him by ties of love, trust, and hope. Let us not think
of these as purely external relationships. Between ordinary
finite individuals, such relations involve an inner sympathy,
which amounts to a real interpenetration of personalities. We
cannot fail to be aware of this in contemplating the intercourse
of the disciples with their Lord during His earthly life.

With the resurrection, a real change took place. The occasional
appearances of their risen Lord were not the same as the daily
intercourse that they had with Him "in the flesh." During the
interval between the resurrection and Pentecost, they knew that
He was alive, and they experienced His presence and His grace.
They came to realize that He had a place in the divine order far
transcending what they had previously imagined. His appearances
were occasional, and their association with Him was in
consequence less continuous.

It certainly did not mean the end of their intercourse. Indeed,
it meant the beginning of a fellowship deeper and richer than
before. In the days of His flesh, Jesus, using a very bold
figure, once said, "He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my
blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him." It was His way of
characterizing the closeness of their communion with Him. They
experienced this indwelling while he was still physically present
with them. They knew Him as at the same time both without and
within. When His physical presence was finally withdrawn, Christ
became for them not a more and more distant memory, but an ever
more vivid living presence, dwelling within them.

If this were a theological dissertation instead of an exposition
of one aspect of religious life, I should find it necessary to
consideration the distinction between the indwelling God, the
indwelling Spirit, and the indwelling Christ. From the religious
point of view, the distinction is not important. When Jesus
before His death spoke to His disciples of the coming of the
Spirit, He said, "He dwelleth with you and shall be in you." That
is to say, Jesus Christ dwells with them now, and He, or His
Spirit, shall be in them. Similarly, St. Paul equates the
indwelling Spirit with the indwelling Christ when he writes to
the Romans,

> Ye are not in the flesh but in the Spirit, if so be that the
> Spirit of God dwell in you. Now if any man hath not the Spirit
> of Christ, he is none of his. And if Christ be in you, the body
> is dead because of sin; but the Spirit is life because of
> righteousness.

Prof. C.H. Dodd has said regarding this virtual identification
of the experience of the indwelling Christ with that of the
Spirit, that

> It saved early Christian thought from falling into a non-moral,
> half-magical conception of the supernatural in human experience,
> and it brought all spiritual experience to the test of the
> historical revelation of God in Jesus Christ.
>
> -- COMMENTARY ON THE EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS, page 124

Again, in the same connection, Professor Dodd quotes a remark of
Prof. A.E. Taylor regarding the anxiety of Marcus Aurelius lest
he might become like other Emperors who began well but ended as
tyrants:

> If Stoicism as a system is really answerable for his inability to
> rise above these fears, it is, I think, because the doctrine
> offers only a "god within," and no "God without" to whom one can
> look for grace against temptation.
>
> -- COMMENTARY ON THE EPISTLE TO THE ROMANS, page 137

In the teaching of the New Testament, there is no danger of this,
for in Jesus' own words, one of the functions of the Spirit is to
"teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance
whatsoever I have said unto you." The indwelling Spirit can never
be dissociated from the historical Jesus, and all spiritual
experience must be brought to the test of its congruence with
what we know of Him.

Further, when Christ really dwells in one, every part of his life
is penetrated by His influence. St. Paul wrote to the
Galatians, "I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet
not I, but Christ liveth in me." He elaborated this in writing to
the Romans, showing how they were not only crucified with Christ,
but how in baptism, they were buried with Him, and raised up in
the likeness of His resurrection to newness of life. Therefore,
he was able to say, "For me to live is Christ, and to die is
gain."

I cannot attempt to explain all that sayings such as these imply.
When anyone shares the experience that they represent, his life
undergoes a complete transformation. St. Paul expresses this in
these words, "if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature."
Something entirely new has come into being. It is not simply
that a man has changed in this or that detail, but that his whole
life is renewed. The springs of the renewal are within.

Jesus lived, taught, and worked in Galilee and Jerusalem. They
crucified Him, but He died, rose again, and is alive for
evermore. He is not only alive, but his life is such that St.
Paul makes the claim, incredible to many people, that "in him
dwelleth all the fullness of the God-head bodily." The new love
and new reserves of power that have come into being within an
individual whose life is continuously within the living presence
of Him.

When he speaks of himself as being in Christ or of Christ as
living in him, he is not using far-fetched figurative language to
describe a deep inner sympathy with one that once lived and now
is dead. He is claiming that the whole power of God is at work
in his life.

Since the days of the Apostles, countless men and women have had
comparable experiences. They have known themselves to be in the
hands of One who was both infinite power and infinite love. They
have known Him as the inspiration of their best thoughts, the
director of their highest purposes, and their strength in times
of trial and temptation. The Indwelling Christ means all this
and more.

Those who have learned to know Him have learned that they have
entered on an experience that must grow and develop. If we
cannot say with the assurance of St. Paul, "For me to live is
Christ," we can at least understand what he means. We can hope
and pray that the fuller experience may yet be ours.

------------------------------------------------------------------
WRITING TO SHARE SOMETHING MORE

By Eldon B Tucker

[Based upon an Oct 16, 2003 posting to theos-talk@yahoogroups.com.]

When we take time to write out our thoughts, it helps us clarify
them. Putting them in concrete form, we bring them into focus
and better organize them. In sharing with others, we often get
new insights.

If some writing is confused, rambling, or disorganized, it means
that the writer in still struggling to bring clarity to his or
her understanding of the subject. We all find ourselves in this
position at times.

Clear writing in fiction takes you into the story. The writing
becomes transparent as the story shines brilliantly in your
mind's eye. Excellence in writing on philosophical themes acts
similarly. The words take you swiftly to deep places within
where you gaze upon eternal truths. High quality poetry or art
draw you into a particular emotion or state of mind powerfully,
intensely, and with passion.

Poor writing in fiction leaves you struggling to figure out what
the story is about and making an effort to keep plodding through
the book. Poor metaphysical writing leaves you puzzled over just
what the author is trying to say, if anything. Baldy written
poems do not strongly grip you, but leave you cold, wondering if
the drunken songs coming from yonder tavern have more sense and
meaning.

In all cases, words can convey brilliance, a numinous quality, a
sense of magic and wonder and majesty -- or they can leave you
cold. Just as fine music can come out of stereo speakers, or
crackles, pops, and static hiss. Both are sound, but one conveys
meaning that is absent from the other.

When writing, we are sharing something more that just the words.
How well we share depends upon how well we craft our writing.
Whether the words are beneficial or harmful depends upon our
feelings, state of mind, and inner state when we sit down to
write. (That is why it is not a good idea to respond in
immediate anger to something we may see that we find offensive.)

What does this all mean on a mailing list? When writing, treat it
as an opportunity to see things clearly, like in meditation,
approaching the actual act of writing as one would work on a Zen
koan. Consider other people on the list as volunteer teachers
that grade your writing and give you immediate feedback. They
act as a sounding board to your ideas and self-expression. They
are not there as children to be educated nor sheep to be looked
over and protected from the wolves.

Look at an idea as clearly as possible. Start without words,
then taking the dive into writing, racing to capture rapidly the
elusive insight. Stop when the excitement dies down and the
words turn cold. Wrap it up, review it for obvious errors, and
then make the posting. Perhaps no one will say a word about it.
Someone may say that he or she likes what you say. Someone else
may call it total nonsense and garbage. No matter. You know
that it is good the whole time you work working on the posting.
When it goes out, there is a sense of completion and closure and
readiness for something new. You have given birth to something
that has gone out into the world, and now it is time to move on.

------------------------------------------------------------------
THE ENDLESS PILGRIMAGE

By Inga Sjostedt

[From THE THEOSOPHICAL FORUM, March 1939, pages 214-19.]

As Pomona emerged from childhood, her senses became more active,
her understanding expanded, and her innate love for beauty grew
more acute. She stood looking at the setting sun one day and
saw, as it were, for the first time that great heart of the sky
beating, and its arteries of flame and gold pulsating through the
frame of the world. The beauty of it evoked a response from her
heart. She knew that she would never rest until she had found
her way to the radiance, to the fountainhead of living light.

Gaily she commenced her pilgrimage. There was a road winding its
way towards the West. With the descent of evening, it seemed to
merge with the pathway of the sun. This road Pomona took
lighthearted and with the confidence of youth. "It will surely
lead me to the portals of the Light-Giver," she thought.

She ate the berries that grew around her. When she was thirsty,
there was always a brook offering its crystalline abundance.
Sometimes when she passed by a cottage, the kindly people who
dwelt therein offered her food and drink. When night came, she
lay down in the grass and placed her head on the moss-covered
root of some tree, sleeping beneath the stars. Sometimes in the
daytime, she made wreaths of the wild flowers that nodded to her
from the roadside, crowning herself with colorful fragrance. It
was a life of perpetual delight. The world grew fairer day by
day in the eyes of Pomona.

One day, when she heard the larks singing with incomparable
sweetness above her, she began to dance along the road, impelled
by the sheer joy of living. Then she saw an old man sitting
beside the road, completely exhausted. When he saw her, he
raised his head and said in a feeble voice, "Dear child, bring me
a drink of water from the stream in the copse behind me. I am so
weary that I have not the strength to rise."

Pomona, without stopping, called back to him over her shoulder as
she danced by, "Do you not see that I am dancing? I have no time
to stop. You must help yourself."

She continued to pirouette down the road. Suddenly, her heart
grew heavy and she ceased dancing. Her thoughts went back to the
old man until she dismissed him from mind with effort. Her
gaiety did not return to her that day.

She plucked some berries and wrapped them in her kerchief,
intending to eat them that evening with a cake given her at a
farm the previous day. Then another voice hailed her.

"Gentle lady, I am weak with hunger. In the name of mercy, if
you have a morsel to spare, let me have it!"

It was a little, shriveled woman, sitting forlornly beside the
road. For a moment, Pomona hesitated. Then she opened the
kerchief and poured its contents into the old woman's apron.

"It is all I have," said Pomona. "May it satisfy your hunger!"

She left the old woman eating contentedly, but that night,
although she had went without food, her mind was peaceful.
Dreams of great beauty sang to her that night.

Walking along some days later, she gazed at the setting sun, her
distant goal, with rapture. A youth came up to her.

"May I walk beside you," he asked. "It is pleasant to have
company, but irksome to walk alone. Until a man learns the
secret of solitude, his mind grows heavy with loneliness."

She agreed willingly. They found pleasure in each other's
company and in their exchange of thoughts.

For many days, they walked side by side. The youth picked
berries for her, brought her water from distant places, and
watched over her at night when the wild beasts prowled in their
vicinity. When she was sad, he told her his most intimate
thoughts. (What human being could be more generous, for thoughts
are particles of the mind that creates them?) When she was gay,
he was gay with her. Together, they rejoiced in the beauty of
the world.

One day, he said to her, "Pomona, my greatest wish is to protect
and serve you devotedly. I will accompany you to the end of your
pilgrimage."

Then she frowned, shook her head, and said lightly, "Such is not
my wish. At first, you were gay and your company gave me
pleasure, but now you are serious and I am a little weary of you.
We have come to a crossroad. You take the left turning and I the
right. If you come further with me, your devotion will claim my
freedom. Farewell!"

However much he pleaded with her, she refused to allow him to
accompany her. The last she heard was his cry, "Cruel Pomona!"

She laughed and ran away. From that moment, she saw him no more.

Days passed, then weeks and months. The years began to walk by
in a stately procession. Still the radiant sun was as distant as
ever. One day, as she leaned over a lake to quench her thirst,
she saw the image of a wrinkled face and grey hair looking at
her. She knew that old age had taken her unawares.

She walked slowly now. The joy and arrogant hope of youth had
faded. One day, she came to a bridge suspended across a wide
river and could not cross it. She knew that Death was calling
her. Death came, freed her soul from the old body, and led her
away to his palace of Dreams.

"Dream to your heart's content," he said.

When she awoke, she was again leaving childhood, learning
judgment through thought, and finding within herself a yearning,
a restless groping after something she could not name. One
morning, she saw the sun rising, glorious in his power, dividing
the measureless expanse of space with his rays, ascending the
horizon. She knew then that she must reach the sun and become
perfect in his light. Once more, she followed the road that
pointed westward and rose towards Infinity through the portals of
the setting sun.

Thoughtfully, she looked upon the houses, the fields, and the
woods she passed by. A faint sense of recognition haunted her as
though she had seen this road before, in some dream perchance or
in some half-remembered vision beyond the precincts of a dream.

She saw a youth resting beside the road. As they looked at each
other, both knew a moment's recollection, the youth with pain and
Pomona with remorse. The moment passed and the youth said, "May
I walk beside you?"

"Yes," said Pomona. "It is pleasant to have company but irksome
to walk alone."

Together they continued to follow the road.

Many days they walked together. Pomona's heart went out to the
youth for his gentleness, his kindly speech, and his ready smile.
One day, she said to him, "Will you come with me to the portals
of the sun? I desire no other company than yours, for you have
become dearer to me than myself."

The youth answered thoughtfully, "No, Pomona, it may not be. It
was not impossible for me to give you my devotion, but a strange
distrust, stronger than myself, prompts me to reject you.
Forgive me, but I crave a greater freedom than that of personal
dependence."

When the road divided into two directions, he went one way and
left her to the other. Then Pomona sank to the ground and cried,
"Cruel youth!"

She remained until nightfall, weak with grief and constant
weeping.

When she rose to continue her way, her weakness forced her down
again. With joy, she saw a man approaching. "Kind stranger,
have pity on me. Consumed with thirst, I am too weak to rise. I
hear a brook purling near by. Bring me a cup of water there
from, I implore you!"

The surly man answered, "I have no time with trifles. You see
that I am in haste. If water is near, you can crawl to it
unaided."

He passed on, but Pomona lay all night beside the road. She
could not sleep for thirst nor rise to obtain water from the
brook. Sorrow had rendered her weak.

When she recovered, she continued along the road. Now her face
was bitter with disappointment. Her thoughts murmured, "How have
I deserved such unhappiness?" The voice of her conscience said,
"Endure, for it is just!" Although her spirit REMEMBERED, her
body-mind remained in ignorance, for was it not a new casket
created for her spirit by life?

One day, she sat beside the road, weary and hungry. The sun was
setting and seemed as distant and unattainable as at the
beginning of her journey.

"There is no justice in the world," she said bitterly, "nor any
human being who would care if I starved or were unhappy."

"Poor child, if you are hungry, take my food. I will surely find
more elsewhere," said a voice behind her. A little old woman
came up to her and placed a bundle on her lap, and walked on.
When Pomona opened the bundle, she saw food and drink there.
Sending a grateful thought to the old woman, she ate. She not
only appeased her hunger, but also regained her lost faith in
human sympathy from the kindness of the stranger.

One day, she came to a wide river. Across the river was a
bridge. She was weary she was, weary with years now. Life had
not neglected to reap its seasons in the days of harvest. With a
great effort, she set her foot on the bridge, and thus, slowly,
crossed over to the other side. There she sank down and watched
the sun setting.

"How near you seem, and yet how distant," she murmured. In that
instant, Death came and raised her up gently.

"You have come a little nearer this time," he said. "Some day
you will reach the Golden Portals. Now you are too tired. Come
and dream in my palace. You will find new strength there for the
pilgrimage of tomorrow!"

Obediently, she followed him.

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OUR CONSCIOUSNESS OF GOD

By S. Vahiduddin

[From THE ARYAN PATH, April 1953, pages 156-60.]

The consciousness of God as a fact and a phenomenon has an
interest of its own. It is independent of the question of God's
existence. As many have found their way from the consciousness
of freedom and responsibility to freedom itself, so we may also
lead ourselves from the consciousness of Deity unto Deity Itself.
That is another question. The consciousness as a datum cannot be
denied. Our purpose is confined to a phenomenological
description of what that consciousness is. It is not a
psychological description. Psychologically, we may be interested
in knowing the mental factors at work, their genesis, and the
laws that govern them. That is already an interpretation and an
interpretation is not our object. We want to make the
consciousness retrospective, to make it speak for itself.

The consciousness of God has one disadvantage. Unlike the
consciousness of freedom, its universality may be challenged.
There have cropped up now and then in history religious outlooks
without the notion of God and personal immortality. It may also
be questioned whether God and immortality are so indissolubly
linked together that the one leads to the other. Impressed by
the testimony of history, earnest thinkers have been forced to
affirm that God and immortality are not pivotal to the religious
consciousness. Schleiermacher has affirmed in unmistakable
mistakable terms that God does not constitute an essential
element in the religious consciousness. Paradoxical as it might
seem in a Christian thinker like Schleiermacher, in his famous
DISCOURCES, he has identified religion with a feeling and a
vision of the universe. The consciousness of God is only one
among many possible forms of religious consciousness.

Though it is hardly possible to agree with Schleiermacher in his
characterization of religion, it may be that primitive religion
only refers to the beyond without distinct consciousness of God.
God in our consciousness invests with moral attributes, more or
less pronounced. Shorn of moral moments, religion is the
irrational and the numinous of which Rudolf Otto speaks.
Religion, then, does not exhaust itself in morality and an
ambiguous attitude in relation to God is not ruled out by
history.

Who knows whether the great teacher who developed a full-fledged
religion without God had not a consciousness of God in such
fullness that silence was the only medium through which it could
be conveyed? Or that God, in his phenomenality as an object of
worship and prayer, was ignored as Ishvara and creator, while
Brahman remained too lofty for words? Even the strong conviction
of God that Goethe's Faust entertains does not pour itself forth
in words. Rejection and affirmation become equally presumptuous.
Perhaps the idea of something above the distinctions of being and
non-being is lurking in the thought of Buddhism. Oldenberg has
no doubt that the idea of Nirvana has grown out of speculation
about Brahman. Buddhist thought brings us before a mystery that
is an abyss for the reason.

However that may be, our purpose is to show how God is present in
our experience. William James has subjected the sense of
presence to an interesting analysis. His remarks deserve
attention, not only as the considered views of an influential
thinker, but also as representative of an age. James assumes a
primitive sense of presence that if worked upon forms the basis
of our apprehension of the real. Pierre Janet has shown how in
pathological cases the sense of the real fails and the world
appears dreamy and unsubstantial. No doubt in moments of great
emotional crisis our hold on the real gives way. Whitehead cites
the murmur of William Pitt, English Prime Minister, on his
deathbed at a dark hour in the Napoleonic Wars. "What shades we
are, what shadows we pursue!"

This is a human reaction of ontological and axiological import.
The aims that we have faithfully sought all our life seem
divested of all value. The apprehension of us as shades is the
awareness of our insubstantiality. It is apprehension of the
shadow that we pursue. It is the consciousness of the valueless
emptiness of our pursuits. The strife of life does not become
ignoble. That would still be something. All the hurly-burly of
life becomes only "sound and fury, signifying nothing."
Turgeniev's SMOKE illustrates such a moment of emotional crisis.
The world, the gay life of society, and the heat of political
controversy suddenly appear as vapor and smoke.

One cannot ignore the sense of the presence of God, regardless of
its ultimate foundation. It sometimes takes curious forms. The
person feels himself pursued by someone and frequently looks
back. He may feel his double following him at every stop. The
writer of a document quoted by James expresses himself thus:

> I think it well to add that in this ecstasy of mine, God had
> neither form, color, odor, nor taste; moreover, that the feeling
> of his presence was accompanied with no determinate localization.
> It was rather as if my personality had been transformed by the
> presence of a spiritual spirit.

James seems to suggest that our consciousness of God is of like
nature. Nothing can be further from the truth. We never become
conscious of God in his substantiality, to use traditional
language, but effectively in feeling, experience, and
ideationally as the reference of thought. The consciousness of
God is different from the consciousness of a thing or a person.
The religious experience is not to be distinguished by the
non-religious only in the effects that it produces, in the joy or
shudder that is its outcome. No wonder James, with his
predilection for finite gods and higher selves, came to
misunderstand the nature of the consciousness of God. It becomes
for him like our consciousness of a departed soul. He asserts
that many possess the objects of their belief in the form, not of
mere conceptions accepted by the intellect as true, but rather of
"quasi-sensible realities directly apprehended."

Now we maintain that the consciousness of God is wholly other.
The writer of the very document cited above corrects himself
immediately and gives a more faithful expression of what he felt.
He adds:

> The more I seek words to express this intimate intercourse, the
> more I feel the impossibility of describing the thing by any of
> our visual images. At bottom, the expression most apt to render
> what I felt is this: God was present, though invisible; He fell
> under no one of my senses, yet my consciousness perceived.

How then is God really experienced? If we look at the experience
cursorily, we are struck by the personal character of God. It is
not our concern to show how far personality can be attributed to
God. We only quest to become conscious of Him. He is never
present as a finite being, engaged in a struggle that we only
hope that He will win and with whom we cast in our lot. The
consciousness of God knows no risk, be it in the pragmatic, the
Kantian, or the Existentialist sense. It knows no "either --
or."

The way we become conscious of God as a person in our prayer and
communion may not be considered elevating for fastidious
speculation. Fichte has vigorously condemned it. The way God
appears in consciousness betrays the man and his spirit. On
different levels of spiritual development, the consciousness of
God appears differently. If God is taken as the object of love,
He is understood as the Idea of personality in its fullness. If
the Deity is taken as other than personality, It can only be more
in this otherness, not less. God may appear as solace, hope, and
a wall against which our efforts avail not. "I have known God in
the frustration of my aims," remarked Hazrat Ali.

God may well appear in our consciousness as super-personal, as a
direction or an aim that is always elusive. God is then
experienced in self-transcendence. K. Jaspers seems to move on
this plane. God is found in the frustration of all our thought
and action. Even when we are conscious of God negatively, as
"neti, neti," even in that negation something positive hides. We
somehow divine what we are aiming at. Even in religions with a
highly developed personal consciousness of God, the references to
his super-personal character are legion. God is experienced as
"beyond, beyond all beyond, and still beyond."

The communion with God of the creative religious genius, of the
saint, and the rishi may be very different. Without
understanding what they are, we can only divine their
experiences. At certain rare moments in life, a common man also
LIVES God uncommonly. Such moments bring conversion, deciding
the future course of his life. Pierre, the hero of Tolstoy's WAR
AND PEACE, experiences the sudden awakening of the consciousness
of God.

> Suddenly in his captivity he had learnt, not by words or
> reasoning but by direct feeling, what his nurse had told him long
> ago: that God is here and everywhere . . . And the closer he
> looked, the more tranquil and happy he became. That dreadful
> question, "What for," which had formerly destroyed all his mental
> edifices, no longer existed for him. To that question, "What
> for," a simple answer was now always ready in his soul: "Because
> there is a God, that God without whose will not one hair falls
> from a man's head."

We need not even go to experiences of such a rare order. As love
remains for many but a dream and longing, so these experiences
too evade the light of everyday reality. Our purpose is well
served if we can bring to light the consciousness of God as a
phenomenon of everyday significance.

Sometimes God reveals Himself in conditions in which one would
least expect Him. In perverse moments, in moments of sin and
degradation, one may feel the sudden nearness of God. God may
reveal himself in an awareness of our alienation from the Divine
Order. Many practices of certain religious sects and individuals
have their root in such morbidity. What is more natural and
salutary is to feel God not when we are wallowing in sin, but
rather in repentance. The feeling of degradation is the feeling
of value that has unfortunately not found fulfillment in our
life.

Many are the ways and the forms in which we become conscious of
God. We may feel the presence of God in all that we do, feel, or
think. Religion will assume a corresponding form. If God is
experienced as activity and urge, a religion of action is born
and a life of duty becomes the goal. Religion then becomes a
mission and a crusade. If God is lived as the affective
atmosphere, religion takes on an aesthetic character and man is
lost in contemplation of everlasting Beauty. If God is lived as
a constant reference of thought, religion takes the form of
knowledge; it seems to be God's knowledge that makes possible the
knowledge of things around us.

It is interesting to observe down the ages, in a single
historical religion, the shifting of accent from one to another
of these, the tension of opposites making for the vigor and
health of a great religion. The contrast between the vita activa
and the vita contemplativa of Martha and Mary is an abiding
contrast. Our consciousness of the Divine is also rich in
contrasts. Now one and now another moment become salient.
Whether we live God as the breath of our life, as the Light that
flickers at a distance, or as the frustration of our action and
the despair of our thought, God steals into the heart in a way
all Its own.

------------------------------------------------------------------
WITHHOLDING THE SHADOW OF A DOUBT

By James Sterling

Withholding the shadow of a doubt
Leaving the splendor of a shiny sun
To illuminate the darkest recess of the mind;
Leaving wisdom as its only domain.

Left behind are boyish ways;
A man strides steadily ahead,
Leaving sad illusions behind;
Lost in a maze of forgotten days.

The lost eye, the golden eye of Atlantis,
Is ready to emerge from its dormant place
Beneath the frigid waves, frozen in time,
And pulsating with renewed life.

Set the stage for an evolving play;
Dedicating harmony only to the right,
Never the left; leaving black stones unturned.
Darkness only reinforces the light.

There is a quest for those possessing the wisdom,
Patient in learning and careful to understand;
They leave the initiated with intuition to plot
Carefully. Boyhood traumas have all but melted
Away, leaving the man to emerge and take his
Place in the future that lies in the secret of
His shining stars.

------------------------------------------------------------------
SILENT WATCHERS AND THE HIERARCHY OF COMPASSION, Part I

By G. de Purucker

[From THE HIERARCHY OF COMPASSION, pages 3-15.]

The Hierarchy of Compassion is a Cosmic Hierarchy divisible into
almost innumerable Minor Hierarchies. It runs down the scale of
the Ladder of Cosmic Being from the Supreme Hierarch of our Solar
System through all intermediate stages, infilling every planet of
the Solar System until finally its representatives on this our
present physical plane are found on the Globes of the different
Planetary Chains.

It is composed of Divinities, Demigods, Buddhas, Bodhisattvas,
and great Men of varying degrees of individual splendor, serving
as a living channel for the spiritual currents coming to every
planet of our system from the Heart of the Solar Divinity. These
beings shed glory, light, and peace upon that pathway from the
compassionate deeps of their own being.

Little do men know, even those belonging to our Order, of the
immense love and divine impulse of compassion that sways the
Souls of those who form this Hierarchy of Light. They made the
Great Renunciation, giving up hope of personal evolutionary
progress. This may be for eons to come. They remain at their
appointed tasks in service to the world. Unrecognized,
unthanked, ever silent, ever compassionate, and ever filled with
holy peace, they work steadily on, watching others go past them
as the slowly moving River of Lives sweeps along in unending
flow.

On our Earth, there is a Minor Hierarchy of Light. Working in
this sphere, there are lofty intelligences, Human Souls, having
their respective places in the hierarchical degrees. Our own
Masters, the Mahatmas, are in this Hierarchy of Light appurtenant
to Mother-Earth.

Does the intense reality of this fact come to us as frequently as
it should? We are participants in and co-laborers with the agents
of the mightiest spiritual forces that guide our globe as far as
such can be done. This is done insofar as our human family is
concerned, as much so as humans allow it to be done. Let us
think of the Masters as living realities in our lives, for that
is exactly what they are for those who realize it. Let us try to
understand that they are no mere shadowy figures in a vague and
far-away background of distance. They are real, living forces in
the spiritual life of the world. At times, awakened minds and
intuitive human hearts sense their presence.

Consider the wonderful work in which labor those who have
preceded us in our Order. They are Revealers in the sense of
Unveilers, for they are the Initiators. These unveilers or
revealers hand off the Light from age to age. Those of the Order
of the Buddhic Splendor, of the Order of Wisdom and Compassion,
which is our own holy Order, labor incessantly for others. They
are the Bringers of Light, the Revealers, because they reveal in
the sense of unveiling. This is lofty; it is sublime.

Do you know that they merely copy among us on Earth what takes
place in spheres supernal? There are revealers, unveilers, among
the gods themselves. With the immortals, as we human beings
conceive them to be, there is likewise what we call a training
school, and a passing on of Light from Manvantara to Manvantara.

The old Hermetists were right. "What is above is the same as
that which is here below, and what is here below is but a shadow,
a reflection, of what is above."

At the summit of the Hierarchy of Compassion is the Silent
Watcher. He has renounced all. In utter self-sacrifice, he
waits and watches with infinite pity, reaching downwards into our
own sphere, helping and inspiring in the silences of spiritual
compassion. This does not mean that the Silent Watcher is silent
in the human sense, because obviously the Silent Watcher does not
speak with human tongue. It has reference to his spiritual
qualities as seen from the human standpoint. The Silent Watcher
remains at his post from the beginning to the ending of the
Manvantaric life cycle, a self-sacrificing Cosmic Martyr. He
will not move from his post of cosmic compassion until the last
thread of destiny of that Hierarchy is spun. He is also called
the Silent Watcher because he watches and guards through the
age-long Manvantara in what to us humans seem to be a divine
silence.

This Wondrous Being is the spiritual bond that links the various
Bodhisattvas and Buddhas of the Hierarchy of Compassion both with
superior worlds and with us and the lower beings of our Round.
He is the Chief, Master-Initiate, Head, and Leader of the
spiritual-psychological Hierarchy of which our Masters form a
part. He is the Ever-Living-Human-Banyan Tree, from which they
hang as leaves and fruit, spiritually speaking. In like manner,
we are leaves and fruit of this Ever-Living-Human Banyan. From
this Wondrous Being originally come our noblest impulses through
our own Higher Selves. From it come the life and aspiration we
feel, stirring oft in our minds and hearts. From it, through our
higher natures, comes the urge to betterment, the sense of
loyalty and troth, and all the things that make life holy,
bright, high, and well worth living.

The teaching is that as far as the great spiritual seers know,
the same exists on every globe and every man-bearing planet of
every sun in the infinitudes of Space. There is over each one a
Master-Teacher. In each case, he merits the term that HPB takes
from her Teachers, "The Great Sacrifice." From boundless
compassion for those lower in the scale of evolution, he has
renounced all opportunity to going higher in this Manvantara. He
can learn nothing more of this Hierarchy, for all knowledge
possible in it is his already. He remains behind for eons as the
Great Inspirer and Teacher. He has sacrificed himself for all
below him.

The Hierarchies in the Universe are countless in number and of
all kinds. There are the highest. Although strictly speaking,
none can be highest, we use a human expression. There are
intermediate. There are the lowest, although strictly speaking
there is no lowest, this also being a human expression. Each
Hierarchy has its individuality, its own type of lives,
existences, and things.

As the Hierarchies in the Universe are virtually infinite in
number, the Wondrous Beings, therefore, are also virtually
infinite in number, because every such Wondrous Being is such
only for the series of lives beneath it in its Hierarchy. There
is the Wondrous Being who is the supreme spiritual Chief, the
Silent Watcher, for the Holy Order or Brotherhood of Compassion.
There is the Wondrous Being for our Globe, who is identical in
this case with the Hierarch of the Brotherhood of Compassion.
There is a Wondrous Being or Silent Watcher for our planetary
chain, and there is one for each of the globes thereof. There is
a Wondrous Being or Silent Watcher for our solar system, whose
habitat is the Sun. There is a Silent Watcher for our own Home
Universe, and so forth forever.

Each Silent Watcher is the Fountain or the Parent of a Hierarchy
of the Buddhas of Compassion. They are really the ones from who
flow forth into the Universe those majestic operations of
consecutive and never-failingly accurate action that human beings
call the laws of nature. The movement of their will and
consciousness expresses itself thusly. They are engaged in a
perpetual battle with the forces of pure matter, which is another
human phrase, a human metaphor. They battle the 'Ma-mo,' a
general term covering the dark spirits and operations of Nature.

These sinister operations are merely the workings and operations
of hosts of Monads of the Cosmic Life climbing slowly upward, but
still plunged in the deep spiritual sleep of material existence.
Oh, sublime mystery! The battle of these Silent Watchers is the
holding of the Laws of Life in consistent and orderly consequence
so that all go well and the Light does not die out from the
Universe.

Following the same rule of invariable repetitive action in
Nature, there is a Silent Watcher or Wondrous Being for every
atom. Companions, there is a Silent Watcher or Wondrous Being
for every man or woman, for every human entity, man's own inner
god -- the Buddha within him -- that is the core of his being.

The entire framework of Kosmos or Nature is built in scalar
fashion throughout, built on correspondence and repetition.
There are no absolutes anywhere. Everything is strictly relative
to everything else. The divine of one Hierarchy is grossest
matter to another far superior Hierarchy, but within one and the
other, the repetitive rules apply strictly. Kosmos or Nature
follows one General Course and One Law, and has one general and
throughout-repeated course of action.

There are, as you know, vast hierarchies on invisible planes
(that is, planes that are invisible to us human beings) and
hierarchies likewise that exist on that cross-section of the
Universe that we call our physical Universe or sphere. They have
existed from eternity and will last throughout endless duration,
for the Kosmos is without frontiers. This is not only in its
outward aspect as we conceive it, but more particularly so in the
invisible realms. These hierarchies not merely infill it, but
are it. Hence, you see that the Silent Watchers are as numerous
as are the hierarchies of Cosmic Space. Indeed, they are as
numerous as the stars that glitter in the night skies. They are
as numerous as are the infinite hosts of atoms that make the
twelve-fold Universe on all its planes.

Our Home-Universe is a self-contained Being. It reaches from its
divine Root through many intermediate grades of consciousnesses,
substances, and forces to its lowest extent, the bottom of that
Kosmic Hierarchy and likewise its matter. The Divine Root is its
Divine Hierarch, the Divine Heart of Things. The worlds visible
and invisible combine to form the body of this indwelling
Divinity.

Moreover, each entity within that Kosmic Hierarchy is itself a
minor and therefore subordinate hierarchy. It is a
self-contained entity or closed system having its own highest,
lowest, and intermediate grades of matters and forces. It
faithfully copies its pattern from the Kosmic Hierarchy in which
it moves, lives, and has its being. A man is such an instance.
He is a being with a highest, a lowest (his physical body), and
intermediate grades of consciousness and substance that together
comprise his spiritual, psychical, passional, emotional, and
vital activities. Throughout all of it and in all of it, there
works, lives, and dwells the Dominant Self, the Overlord of all,
the highest of man, his own Spiritual Wondrous Being who is the
supreme Chief, the fountain and origin of the fundamental law or
consciousness of his hierarchy that is an aggregate of his
constitutional structure in itself.

These Silent Watchers are of many grades, of many kinds. There
are Silent Watchers or Wondrous Beings, for instance, who stand
only slightly higher than do the Mahatmas themselves. There are
others again who stand still higher as well as others again who
stand higher but are still human.

The Silent Watcher for our Globe D of the Earth Chain is still
human. Although he is the farthest advanced of Humanity, he has
not yet advanced out of the human stage into the god-stage.
There are Planetary Spirits, Silent Watchers, who are beings
occupying a grade intermediate between divinities and men. There
are even Silent Watchers among the gods. Some manifest
themselves as suns. This is not only as the Heart of a sun, as
the god behind the glorious star that is its garment, but
likewise in a sense as that garment. This is in the same way
that a man is not only the spirit and the soul of himself, but
also his vehicle; he being thus a human physical man, psychical
man, spiritual man, and divine man.

It is likewise true that a greater Silent Watcher is the Head of
the minor Silent Watchers that he leads, just as the Silent
Watcher of our Globe, who is a grand Man, a human demigod indeed,
but yet is a Man, is the Silent Watcher of our Humanity. It is
in this Being that our individual consciousness is rooted much as
the banyan-tree roots its various offshoots in itself. They are
children-trees, yet all deriving their primal origin from the
parent-trunk. That parent-tree now lives with its children as an
equal, yet is prima inter pares -- first among equals.

The Ever-Living-Human Banyan alluded to by HPB in THE SECRET
DOCTRINE is not an incarnated man. He is the Maha-Chohan of this
Earth, an entity that was a man in far past ages, in former
Manvantaras in fact. He is the Leader, the Supreme Guide, and
the loftiest Teacher of the Hierarchy of the Great Ones now. He
is the supreme head of our holy Order. We call him the
Maha-Chohan, the Great Lord or Chief. He is the channel through
who pass the sublime inspiration and life flowing from the Silent
Watcher of Humanity.

A Maha-Chohan, remember, is simply a human being who has evolved
to that lofty stage. Secondly, a Chohan, a Maha-Chohan, a
Dhyani-Chohan, is a man, or has been a man of either Earth in
this Planetary Chain or in some past Manvantara. It is
inaccurate to speak of the Maha-Chohan as having been, in some
far past Manvantara, a divine being who came to Earth in order to
help mankind. The Maha-Chohan is an evolving entity who has
passed through the human stage but is still human. We are
passing through lower degrees of the human stage now. In far
distant eons of the future, yes, even before this Planetary Chain
shall have reached its Manvantaric end, we too, as a human host,
shall become Dhyani-Chohans. Before that, we shall occupy the
lofty stage that our own Great Teacher, our Maha-Chohan, now
occupies. In past eons, he was a man like us.

"Maha-Chohan" is a title just as "Buddha" is. It is a title like
"Christ." It is a title like "god." There are great Maha-Chohans,
also Maha-Chohans of inferior degree. The Maha-Chohan of which
we speak is our Supreme Chief. He is the Lord and Teacher of our
Masters and through them of us as well.

Nothing exists that Earth can teach the Maha-Chohan in this
Round. He has learned it all. We may call him the Heart of the
Masters. He is an entity, self-conscious, the loftiest and most
sublime of the Buddhas of Compassion.

Consider a thought derivative from this that some of you may
know. To some of you, it may come as a strange deduction. The
Higher Self of each one of you is such an Ever-Living-Human
Banyan. The Higher Self of each of you is the source of a
multitude of human souls of which you as a human being are one.
Your Higher Self has sent out the human souls as branches or rays
that take root in the material world as you do as human souls.
In their turn, these human souls grow through eons-long evolution
to become spiritual banyans. Each one when becoming such a
banyan will send out new roots, new branches, and new shoots
itself. Even so, all are derivative from the Parent-Tree.
Therefore, I say that this Ever-Living-Human Banyan may be called
the Parent-Heart, the Heart-Parent, of the Masters.

When we call this Hierarchical Wondrous Being our Highest Self,
our Paramatman, we mean that it is the Primeval or Originating
Seed from which we grow and develop into composite entities.
From it, we spiritually spring. During a Manvantara, this sheaf
of Divine Light separates into innumerable entities (Monads and
Monadic Rays). When the Pralaya comes, it withdraws and draws
back into itself. The individualizing experience gained by its
countless Hosts of Manifested Monads and Monadic Rays enriches
and ennobles it. The innumerably various individual
consciousnesses increase in power, glory, and self-cognition by
means of the lives through which they have passed within the life
of the Greater Being.

Some speak of our inner god as if that were the divine ending of
us. Yet the realms of the inner god are but the beginning of
other realms still more divine, reaching ever deeper and deeper
into the womb of infinitude. They reach deep within. They reach
ever higher and higher, and still ever more high. The Ladder of
Life extends endlessly. Do you not therefore see that the very
heart of the Universe is you? It is you in your inmost!

Let me try to illustrate again. I speak first of the Divine
Plane. If I make the race successfully, my spiritual selfhood
shall in future ages have become a cosmic divinity, say a solar
divinity. I shall then be a Silent Watcher of that solar system.
I will be its apex, its head, its heart, and its brain, ruling
all the hosts of entities that infill that solar system, of
whatever kind they may be. High, low, intermediate, they will
all be my children; yet now they are life-atoms in my physical
body, linga-sarira, kama-rupa, manasic parts, and spiritual part.

As an individual, I shall then have no more to learn in that
solar system, which will compose my being then. (By solar
system, remember that I mean not only the then physical planets
and the atoms that compose them, but everything within that Egg
of Brahma or Brahmanda.) It will have become me, but greatly
expanded. In other words, all the beings that now compose me,
that help me to express myself on all my planes of expression,
will then themselves likewise have grown into many kinds of
beings. They will have become atoms, vegetables, animals, men,
demigods, quasi-gods, etc. You can call them angels, archangels,
powers, principalities, or what not. The name does not matter
much.

Then I will be the Silent Watcher. I will be one who cannot
learn anything more in the solar system that is my lower parts,
and yet there I shall stand glittering in my entire solar divine
splendor throughout innumerable eons, learning no more in the
world that then will be my body, my self-expression. I live for
the sake of the lives that had sprung forth from me, as sparks
spring from a central fire. This is an example of a divine
Silent Watcher.

Of course, in my still higher parts, I shall be learning on
planes correspondingly higher. Even so, half of my attention,
life, intelligence, and possibilities for individual growth as a
god will be devoted to the hosts that compose my lower parts,
behind me in an evolutionary sense. Then I cannot and will not
advance a single step, leaving a single life-atom behind me
abandoned on the long, long evolutionary trail. This would be
obviously impossible. This condition clearly is partly karma or
destiny and partly pure divine compassion. Such is the sublime
destiny of us all.

Now a second example of what a Silent Watcher is. Take our
Planetary Chain. When our Solar System began, our Planetary
Chain was there among "the Sons of God," to use the old familiar
Christian speech. The God was Father-Sun, and the Sons of the
God were the divinities on, in, and around it. The highest being
of our Planetary Chain was the most progressed planetary spirit
of that Planetary Chain from the previous Solar Manvantara.
Embodying in the new Solar Egg or Brahmanda, that is, our
Planetary Chain, this most-progressed spirit becomes its leader
or coryphaeus.

Furthermore, throughout the repetitive reimbodiments of our
Planetary Chain during the Solar Manvantara, that one Being --
the apex, the head, of our Planetary Chain -- will be our Silent
Watcher. It has to drag, so to speak, the heavy weight of all of
the Planetary Chain hanging like a multiple pendant from it. It
throws not off this weight. It carries the weight, and lives,
rises, and guides, progressing itself. Never for an instant does
it wish to free itself from the dead weight, from the drag, of
the armies of creatures making the multitudinous hosts of the
Planetary Chain -- among them our own humanity, we ourselves.

Now consider a third example of a Silent Watcher on the human
plane. It is my upper triad, Atman-Buddhi-Manas. Call it the
Christ-Monad if you will; call it the inner Buddha if you will.
It is my own individual Silent Watcher, that is, of me as a man.

As the Pythagoreans phrased it, the highest triad remains in
"silence and darkness," and verily is the root of all our being.
It is silence to us. It is darkness to us. In actuality, our
human life is the darkness. In its own being, this higher triad
is supernal light, unspeakable glory, and its silence is silence
only because we have not trained our ears to hear what takes
place there.

My upper triad is myself and yet it is not I. Do you understand
that thought? If you do, then you have the true idea of the
significance of a Silent Watcher or Wondrous Being. The solitary
spiritual entity will not go higher alone. He reproduces as from
a Source that entity of my constitution called the human soul,
the intermediate part of every new reimbodiment of mine. The Ray
from my Silent Watcher within brings about this reproduction. It
sends me forth anew to learn in reimbodiment.

Another instance of a human Silent Watcher is most difficult to
explain because the teaching is so particular. He is the
Spiritual Head of all the Adepts who have ever lived on this
Globe, who now live, or who will live in the future. He is the
Spiritual Head of this long line of great Sages and Seers, the
one whom they all recognize as their spiritual Father. He is a
Man and yet a demigod, because he is a god embodied in a highly
advanced man's soul. The Silent Watcher of the Globe is an
actual embodied being, but this does not necessarily mean
possessing a sthula-sarira, a flesh body.

This embodied being is most likely a Nirmanakaya. That is a
complete man minus the lower gross triad. In the past, present,
and future, all the Adepts on Earth owe allegiance to and obey
him without question. He is an embodied god or demigod, the
Silent Watcher of the Humanity of this Globe. He is on Earth on
this present Globe D of our Chain.
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